


The Perfect Gift

by Katie_Dub



Series: Christmas Is Going Terribly [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Christmas, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mild Smut, Things are going terribly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_Dub/pseuds/Katie_Dub
Summary: Emma is desperately searching for the perfect gift for her best friend, Killian Jones.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://katie-dub.tumblr.com/post/154049798752/things-are-going-terribly-christmas-aus), consider this my own Glee-style mash-up mega mix of ‘things are going terribly' AUs.

_Fuck_. Emma threw her phone across the room and tried not to cry. She shouldn’t be this upset about a delayed parcel. But this particular delayed parcel meant that Killian Jones was not going to get a gift from her on Christmas Day. 

It was stupid, really, but he was the best best friend anyone could hope for. He was endlessly supportive and patient with her bullshit. Always ready to come to her rescue whether that meant pretending to be her boyfriend to deter the most enthusiastic of sleazes or defending her to friends, family and random strangers. And his dry wit often had her snorting with laughter. Yep, he was a keeper. As a friend. 

And she knew that his childhood and even young adulthood had been on a par with hers in the crappy stakes. He deserved a good fucking Christmas and his own best friend wasn’t going to give him a gift. 

She’d bought one of course. It was a perfect miniature of the Jewel of the Realm, the finest ship in the seven seas, and his own personal obsession. It was nestled inside the distinctive bottle of his favourite brand of rum, and said bottle was engraved with the inscription “Property of Captain Jones”. It was a crazy expensive gift she’d had specially commissioned months ago just to suit her adorably nerdy, pirate-obsessed friend. It was currently stuck halfway across the country and no amount of begging, angry threats or hefty bribes was going to change that. She’d tried.

She thought desperately if there was anything that she could re-gift to him. But the only thing she’d had so far was peppermint lube from Ruby. And from what he’d told her he loved oral au naturelle so she couldn’t imagine he’d appreciate it. 

Fists clenching, she took a deep breath, she could totally brave shopping on Christmas Eve for Killian, he was worth it. 

***

He was not worth it. 

No one was. 

The shops were going to be closed for one day only and yet the scenes at the shops resembled a post-apocalyptic hellscape. The horde might have stopped short of outright looting, but it was a close thing. 

At one point she would swear she lost some hair to a consumerist zombie with murder in her eyes. She had backed away from the soft jumper she had been considering, telling herself that it wouldn’t suit Killian anyway.

His favourite rum and coffee were both out of stock. He already had a fancy first edition of his favourite book Peter Pan. The fancy bakery that sold the little pastry things he loved had closed by the time she got there. 

Cold, tired and bruised after being literally trampled by rampaging shoppers in her quest for a gift worthy of Killian, she finally admitted defeat.

 _Cookies_ , she thought, _I can make him cookies_.

Even she could make some simple cookies. 

***

Emma could not make some simple cookies.

When she’d burned them - just a touch - she thought maybe, maybe she could salvage them with icing and sprinkles. Except somehow she’d mixed up the sugar and salt and the result was near poisonous. She wouldn’t wish them on anyone. Except maybe the hair puller from earlier. 

As she poured herself a generous glass of whiskey she wondered again about that peppermint lube. Surely a gag gift was better than no gift. And Ruby had made it clear that she hoped Killian would enjoy the gift too. Emma knew this isn’t what Ruby had meant, but fuck it.

***

Emma had clearly told her senses to fuck off for she had no further need of them. She wasn’t sure when, but she imagined it was somewhere around her fifth glass of whiskey.

It was all Ruby’s fault. Telling her “all Killian wants for Christmas is _you_ ” like it was no big deal. It had made her start having all these _feelings_ that were totally inappropriate to feel about your best friend. And feelings had led to thoughts about how he really was the most perfect man for her. Thoughts turned to plans to tell him on Christmas day, the day that they were going to spend alone together, as per, because it’s a day to spend with family, with the people you love. 

It’s why she’d been so obsessed with finding a suitably awesome substitute present. This Christmas had to be perfect or she’d lose her nerve.

The pressure and copious quantities of alcohol had gotten to her. The result was _this_. Her latest plan for the perfect last minute present. She was lying seductively in her best friend’s bed, wearing nothing but a couple of cheap bows on her nipples and a sheet covering her lower half.

Or rather she had been.

Because of course on this fucking shit tornado of a day she’d forgotten Killian’s plans to go out drinking with “the lads”. And after waiting an hour already she was starting to sober up a little and rethink the whole “I’ll give him the perfect blow job” thing. Her senses had crept back in and politely tapped her on the shoulder, asking if she was sure they weren’t needed.

She needed some more booze or an exit strategy, pronto. 

Laziness and libido won the toss and she sought out more of Killian’s rum, before selling back down to wait. She was going to do this and it was going to be the ultimate blow job. 

***

It most definitely was not the ultimate blow job.

(Unless of course you meant it in the sense of final, because she was 1000% positive that Killian Jones would never let her touch him again.) 

She had woken up with a start to the sound of him clattering about in his kitchen. This gave her enough time to wipe the drool off her face, to reattach the bow that had ended up stuck to her arm and resume her seductive pose before he opened the door.

“Bloody hell, am I hallucinating?” He looked beyond stunned, blinking rapidly, mouth hanging open.

Emma grinned, and sauntered over to him. She grabbed him by his vest and yanked his lips to hers for the first time. 

Even through the haze of alcohol he could kiss incredibly well. The intensity floored her. How desperately he pressed their lips together and enthusiastically his tongue met hers and tightly he crushed their bodies together speaking of a deep longing that she had only dreamed of. 

She spun him around, guided him back to his bed and pushed him down. She was suddenly unable to wait to give him her gift. She dropped to her knees and reached for his zipper. His hand covered hers as he broke their kiss, panting while he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Emma, wh- what are you doing?” His voice came out strangely high pitched. She momentarily considered running away, before she got a good look at his face and saw the look of awe, lust and utter confusion on his face.

“Killian, all I want for Christmas is you.” She cringed at the cheesy cliché and her anxiety flared at the sincerity. She needed to undercut the romance before she spontaneously combusted. “Well, your cock in my mouth anyway.”

His mouth gaped at her words and his hand fell to his side. Taking this as an invitation to continue, and not wanting to examine the look in his eyes, Emma opened his fly and tugged down his pants. With his assistance they and his boxers were soon discarded and his impressive election was on display.

Emma licked her lips and, watching his face, leaned forward to gently kiss the tip. He closed his eyes and groaned at that first touch. Delighted, she reached below the bed for the lube, eager to really get started. She covered her hands in a generous amount of the tingling gel. 

“Emma, that - ” he choked as she stroked him. She smiled, “ - burns!” he yelped. She stopped dead at the pain in his voice. Suddenly she remembered the conversation they’d had about lubricants. The one where he’d revealed a potentially deadly allergy to the stuff.

His breathing sounded laboured, “top - drawer - EpiPen -” he rasped out. She jumped up and ran to the drawer, grabbing the EpiPen, some tissues and her phone.

She jabbed the injector into his thigh with one hand, wiping him clean with the other. That done she dialled 911 and tried her best not to cry.

***

Several hours later, she was stood next to him waiting for Dr Whale to sign his discharge papers. 

“Next time, tell your partner about your allergy before you get down and dirty, OK?” The peroxide git was saying to Killian. “Anaphylaxis is nobody’s kink.”

“Aye, I’m pretty sure she knows now, mate.” Killian answered weakly.

“Well Mr Jones, you’re free to go. Merry Christmas. And you,” he looked at Emma, “your boyfriend’s in pain, no festive sex for you. And throw that lube away if you want him to live.”

Emma couldn’t look at Killian all the way back to his place. She helped him to the sofa, and moved to go tidy, or get drinks or anything that meant she could avoid his gaze. 

“Emma,” He grabbed her arm, gently, “Emma, look at me.” She immediately turned around.

“Care to explain why you tried to kill me last night?” Her eyes flashed with anger, before she noticed the mischievous spark in his eyes.

“I forgot.” She mumbled. “I forgot about your allergy.”

“Lucky for me you remembered how to administer the drugs I needed.” He said lightly. “But I’ll be honest, I’m a little confused by the whole encounter what with the bows,” he gestured towards her chest while he said it. She blushed and folded her arms across herself, “and the blow job and everything.”

“I -” God, how could she say this so it made sense? “I wanted to get you the perfect gift.”

He nodded, processing her words. “Swan, just so we’re clear? That wasn’t it.”

Even though she knew that, perfect gifts don’t nearly cause your untimely demise after all, it still hurt to hear. She felt a lump in her throat and her eyes prickles tears. “OK.”

“I mean, it was nearly perfect, you were maybe 90% of the way there.”

She frowned, not quite following, “so if I almost got it right, what would the perfect gift have been? Slutty Elf? 69?” He shook his head, smiling slightly.

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. No bows, no blow jobs, definitely no lube. Just you. In whatever attire and whatever position your heart desires. Be that simply watching TV together in sweats or 69ing in naught but a pair of bows.”

Emma could feel herself melting at his words.

“Well luckily for both of us, I’m already yours. Although re-gifting is so tacky, ” she teased.

“Yeah?” He smiled that beautiful smile of his. She returned it easily, before leaning in to kiss him softly.

“Merry Christmas, my Killian.” She murmured against his lips,and despite everything, it was.


End file.
